


You Can Checkout Any Time You Like, But You Can Never Leave!

by CookieCatSU



Category: Smile For Me (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Dialogue Light, Gen, Jerafina actually gives good advice?, Mainly a look into Tiff's thought process, The Habitat was bad for everyone involved, Tiff is underappreciated, crazy i know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:08:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26310892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieCatSU/pseuds/CookieCatSU
Summary: Tiff is trapped.Tiff has been trapped before. This isn't that bad, in comparison. Mr. Habit may be a loon, but he's a relatively nice loon.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	You Can Checkout Any Time You Like, But You Can Never Leave!

Ronbo is a funny guy and Tiff loves him, but that's all he is.

A funny guy. He is not a serious guy. Yes, he is sentimental, and loving, but everything he says and does is with a grain of salt. Even as he murmurs heartfelt serenades he must end it with a joke, must force that levity even where it has no place. Tiff gets it. Ronbo is who he is, and there's no sense in trying to change him.

She does not expect more from him than he can give. They are both people, human beings, and they both have limitations, and Tiff can see that. She isn't angry with him when he presses his fingertips together and admits that no, they can not talk about the future right now, because that's all too heavy and it's going to weigh on him, and he has a big show tonight and he just wants to hang back and maybe practice some jokes on her. She doesn't push him.

She listens and she laughs, and for a time, everything is good.

They do part, of course. It is amicable, but it still hurts anyhow. Tiff misses Ronbo, sometimes, but it was inevitable, really, (they'd simply grown apart), so she doesn't linger on it for too long.

No point in mourning what you no longer can have, when there's so much waiting for you just past life's open door.

So she takes the doorknob in her fist and she starts strutting.

* * *

The Habitat is a sandbox. It's presented as a place she can find herself again. She can find her tune and her sound, without having to worry about record deals or long term, binding contracts.

She can sing whatever she pleases in the otherwise rather quiet confines of the Lounge. She can sing as loudly as she wants. She can sing as much as she wants. She's free. Free to sing.

She sees the flyer, sitting on the top of her pile of mail in the mailbox, bright and colorful, boasting about this place called the Habitat. It sounds like a mental asylum, more than anything else, but Tiff has hit a rough patch, and something about the pamphlet is rather inviting. 

Tiff reads it over once more and notices they need a singer, and reflects on the fact that she is a singer and they need a singer, and perhaps this is fate?

Tiff believes in fate. Or something fate-adjacent, at least.

* * *

He passes her the list. She glances it over, smirks, and lets out a tiny little laugh.

"Cute" She mutters, with a little shake of her head.

"Do you not like them?" He asks, and his voice cracks. Tiff is certain that in mere moments he'll be bawling.

Dr. Habit is a big man. Too big to be crying. He reminds her of Ronbo, in that way. Large and intimidating at first glance, but ultimately little more than a plush teddy bear.

One which she's starting to feel rather bad for.

She presses her red tinted shades up her nose by the bridge, and fixes a forced smile on her face, "No. This just wasn't what I was expecting"

The rhymes are juvenile. Subpar. Childish. This isn't what she'd had in mind when Habit mentioned a new line of songs for her to sing at the Lounge.

He perks up though, seemingly satisfied by the half-truth.

"Womderful. They are tooth related. Squeaky clean and very fun!" He says, grinning so wide his teeth glint in the light.

Tiff takes the list. She usually isn't one to lie, but she also isn't one to push glass vases off of ledges (and Habit may be a teddy bear, but he's a glass vase too, so much like Ronbo it hurts a little). So she does what she had been unwilling to do for her ex-lover, and she fakes a smile and nods along.

"These have potential" She says, but they really don't. But Habit has relaxed, and the threat of an imminent explosion has clearly passed.

If Tiff is actually being honest, she hates them.

* * *

Tiff is tired. Not in the physical sense. It's an emotional exhaustion, intangible, but all too real. She's tired of the Habitat. She's tired of the Lounge. She's tired of the songs.

Habit cries a lot. Any time Tiff mentions how frustrated she is, or questions if the rhymes could be changed, or admits to how tired she is, Habit's eyes start to water. If she mentions leaving he burst into tears, big fat ones. It's pitiful. It's so pitiful it makes her heart twist, and he knows it. She knows he knows it. She's also certain he knows that if it didn't, she would have left by now.

The only thing keeping her here is the fact that she really can't stand to see him crying (or any one. When Tiff sees others crying, she suddenly feels the urge to cry as well, empathizes so fully with them that their pain is also her pain, and it twists in her gut in a way that's impossible to ignore. She's long since learned to stop crying reflexively, to stop mirroring the action, but the sympathy that blooms hasn't diminished).

"You're keeping me trapped here like a caged bird" Tiff says, voice quiet, hands on her boss' shoulders as he cries over his desk. It sounds accusatory, but she is not angry. She does not expect more of Habit than what he can give. He is who he is. This is who he is.

It's true. They both know it's true. The tears are real, but they're a bargaining chip nonetheless. Tiff is being held captive, by this desperate loon of a man desperate to hold on to a friend. They both know it. There's no secret, there.

Habit keeps crying anyway, and Tiff still continues to comfort him, until she's able to slip away.

Contract or not, she has a stage to warm, and loyal patrons to entertain.

* * *

Tiff is trapped. It became clear after the third month. 

She can't leave because Habit doesn't want her to leave. She's stuck in this dismal little town singing tooth rhymes, because her contract binds her to another two years, and it's clear Habit will not void it.

"Why you so unhappy anyhow?" Jerafina asks her, leaning against her shoulder with all her weight, slurring so badly her voice sounds like thick sap dripping. She's unapologetically, ridiculously, drunk.

"I'm stuck here" Tiff replies, "I feel like I'm wasting my life away, because there's so much I want to do and… none of it is this, you know?"

She waves her hand at the stage, as well as the couple other patrons seated at the dining tables, heads hanging and falling over. She recognizes one of them as that Parsley kid by his mess of a haircut.

"Here ain't so bad" Jerafina retorts, "I kinda like it. I can have all the drinks I want here. And uh, what's that thing people say? About how it ain't always sunny outside, so you gotta try to see the bright side of stuff? I'm seeing the bright side"

That tugs a little smile out of Tiff, "You... make a good point. This isn't exactly what I want, but I shouldn't languish in the negative. You don't always _get_ what you want"

Jerafina looks like she wants to say something. Then she shakes her head, tapping her empty glass. 

"I'm sure you'll reach your dreams. You just gotta be uh, patient… smart, ya know?"

Tiff grins. The reassurance isn't a fix-all, naturally, but it helps.

"Thanks"

Jerafina nods, smile wobbly. Then she turns to take another drink, and frowns when she realizes her glass is indeed empty. She hails Jimothan over, or at least tries to. Tiff puts her hand on her shoulder and stops her.

"I think you've had enough," Tiff says. Jerafina huffs, grumbling with agitation, and Tiff grins wider, "Come on, let's do some karaoke, yeah? I'll let you lead"

Jerafina's short-lived irritation dissolves immediately. Jerafina grabs Tiff's hand and drags her to the middle of the Lounge with an excited cackle.

In that moment, singing at the top of her lungs with Jerafina (who's drunk out of her mind), Tiff thinks she can see the sunshine.

She can see a silver lining, thin as it is.

* * *

Tiff needs closure. Simple as that.

She finds the best way to get that is to apologize, or to receive an apology, and to mean the sentiment. Forgiveness is the best balm to any wound- the peroxide you put on any cut to make certain it doesn't fester with infection. Not talking certainly never helped anything.

So she goes to talk.

Kamal’s eyes get wide, when he sees her step into the flower shop, long sleeved red sweater pulled up to her elbows though it’s the dead of January.

“Tiff?” He calls, scurrying from behind the counter, voice high pitched like he’s just seen a ghost.

Tiff nods in acknowledgment, a couple screw tight curls falling in her eyes, “Kamal. Never pegged you as the gardening type”

She isn't surprised to see him, though. Habit was here, so of course, Kamal's presence logically followed. They'd always been attached at the hip at the Habitat, and Tiff didn't see why that would have changed now.

Of the two, Tiff had always liked Kamal more, anyway. He tended toward the anxious side of things, but he was levelheaded and solid, and Tiff could appreciate that in an acquaintance… a friend.

Kamal laughs weakly, and rubs the back of his neck.

“I’m still not. I’m just uh, helping the big guy” He points toward the back. Then his brow furrows, and his head tilts to the side in confusion, “If you didn’t know I was here, why are you… are you here to buy some flowers or are you here to uh-?"

She tilts her head, toward the back room he'd just pointed to, and that's answer enough.

"Oh uh, I'll let him know you're here" Kamal says, now a bit jittery. Dubious. He steps through the bead curtains segmenting the store in half and disappears.

Tiff leans against the counter, gazing at the orchid's seated up front. She brushes her fingertips over an orange petal, velvety felt against her skin, and smiles faintly.

"It's Tiff…." She hears Kamal whisper-shout tersely, through the tie dye, beaded curtain.

There's a garbled voice, aimed away and too far to be heard.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Kamal's voice has become fraught, "I can convince her to leave. You don't need to face her… yet"

There's rustling, along with a defeated sigh, and then the beaded curtain is being pulled back once more. The big boss man himself, Mr. Habit, crouches beneath the frame and steps out, Kamal hovering right on his heels behind him.

Tiff smirks, pushes herself off the counter, and gives a mock salute.

"Evening, Mr. Boss Man" She says with a laugh. It isn't bitter. Quiet, but not bitter. Tiff doesn't do bitter. "Long time no see. I've been hearing from the others that you've been doing better, finally living your life"

Habit's lip trembles at the sight of her, his eyes widening, tears springing like a well sprung.

"Oh Tiff!" He shouts, and he rushes to wrap her in a bone bending hug, "Oh Tiff, it'ss really you! Eye caint believe you came, I never thought I would see you again"

She, eventually, draws her own arms around him, and pats him on the back. She moves to pull away, but then she hears what sounds a lot like… oh, crying. He's crying.

He sniffled, "I'm so sorry. I wasss so auwful to you, wasn't I?"

Kamal steps closer, expression concerned, hand hovering at shoulder height. Tiff mouths the words, _I've got it,_ and pats him on the back twice more. Kamal freezes, but eyes them both wearily.

"I forgive you" She says, and she means it. Habit keeps crying anyway, big and bald and unfiltered, hands gripping the sleeves of her sweater. He gets some snot on her sweater, from where he drips on her shoulder, but she doesn't mind too much. 

That's alright.

Tiff does not expect more from Habit than he can give. If this is what he can give, this is what she will take. She accepts him, for what he is. Broken or mid-recovery or otherwise.

And she hopes with every fiber of her being that others will do the same for her.


End file.
